Batman went left. Black Canary went right.
The gunfire erupted right between them, where they had first been standing.
Shuriken in hand, Batman whipped his arm out and threw it. The bat-shaped projectile collided with the armored guard's hand, knocking the gun out of his grasp as he yelped. Immediately, Canary was on him, leaping into the air and swinging a kick, one that nailed him on the side of his head. He was knocked clear off his feet, crashing face head first on the ground.
That was one down, only a handful to go.
Batman surged forward then, heading right for the next guard. He was in the process of taking aim with his semi-automatic rifle, pointing it right at the blonde vigilante. Batman got there a moment before he squeezed the trigger. One hand grabbing the barrel and the other on the guard's forearm, he forced the gun to point up, a few shots firing up to the ceiling.
That's when he rammed his shoulder into the guard, forcing him to take stumbling steps backwards. They collided with another guard, who yelped as he was forced backwards as well.
That's when Batman pushed his arms as far as they could go, putting a small distance between him and the men. He let go of the guard's arm so that he could make a fist at his hip. He then swung it up, landing an uppercut to the guard's chin and launching him off the floor. Because of the man behind him, the two were sent crashing to the floor in a heap.
Black Canary was already on the move by then. Having darted by the three men as they struggled against each other, she was attacking the next guard, going low as she went into a slide. Bullets were fired, but they all hit the ground behind her as she led with her feet across the floor. She knocked the legs out from beneath the guard, causing him to cry out as he fell to the floor. Unlike the others, he managed to catch himself with his free hand.
By then, Canary had rolled onto her hands and feet. Another guard had rushed to his friend's aid and had just arrived on the opposite side of the man. This allowed the blonde woman to leap up, her arms wrapping around the fallen guard's head and neck from behind. She used him as a ballast so that she could swing both of her legs up, both of her feet slamming into the standing guard's masked face. That sent him flying backwards and into one of the open cells.
Canary then brought her legs down so that she was able to stand on the floor, letting go of the guard next to her. Batman ignored what she did next as he looked to the rest of the men, doing a mental count. Two...three...four...four of them left and each with their guns out. Quickly, he had more bat-shaped shuriken and sent them flying, each one striking true as they disarmed each guard.
The Dark Knight then charged, leaping into the air as his cape billowed widely behind him. The men screamed as he came crashing down on them, landing on one of the guards and crushing him to the floor. He sprung off the man and slammed a fist into another one, just as Black Canary joined the fray, landing her own punch to another disarmed guard. That left one more and they made short work with him, though the hit he took actually knocked his helmet off of his head, sending it bouncing down the corridor.
"Is that all of them?" Black Canary asked, looking around as she took heavy breaths.
"For now," Batman replied as he knelt down next to one of the guards. He checked for a pulse just on habit alone, finding it strong. He then began searching him, looking for anything unusual. His hands patted the guard's body down, checking pockets as he went along.
"I think we have a problem."
Looking up, Batman saw Black Canary standing off a ways. She was holding something, looking at it intently. "I think this fell out of that guard's helmet. Check the others."
Because of the position of her body, he couldn't see what the blonde woman was looking at, so he removed the helmet off of the guard he was searching. Something small and white fell out, drawing his attention. The moment he saw it, his stomach dropped and his blood went cold.
A 10/6 card.
That was the signature mind-control device of Jervis Tetch, the Mad Hatter. What the hell were these things doing here? And why?
Well, the why seemed pretty obvious. These guards were clearly under the control of the Mad Hatter, or at least someone using his technology. It also explained why the guards were patrolling an empty ward as if they were on high alert. They clearly thought the inmates were still there if the guards outside the unit were any indication.
It reeked of Strange.
However, there was more concerning news. With all of the cells opened, that meant the inmates, some of the worst Gotham had ever seen, were on the loose. Strange, the Joker, and now the Mad Hatter were confirmed since all three were kept here and obviously gone. Others included Johnathon Crane and Harvey Dent. Things were not looking good.
So it was naturally then that the doors opened and an orderly came in. Leading with a metal cart that had trays of food stacked on it, he headed to one of the cells. A quick glance to a nearby one showed there were a few trays of uneaten food, the morning, lunch, and dinner trays. "Pickup time," the orderly announced before he froze at the sight of Batman, Black Canary, and the fallen Arkham security team.
The orderly's eyes widened. He then spun around, revealing a 10/6 card against his head, held there by a headband. "We've got inmates on the loose!" he cried out. "Red alert! Inmates on the loose!"
An alarm rang out, red lights flooding the hallway. "I get the feeling things are about to get ugly," Black Canary said as she edged towards the Dark Knight.
"Stand your ground," he told her. "And when backup arrives, use your voice and blow them away."
"With pleasure."
No, no, no, no! This could not be! It shouldn't have gone this way! It wasn't fair!
Down they went, one by one, down, down, down into a rabbit hole of sweet unconsciousness. That vile hooligan, the Batman, did not stop to take down each and every orderly and guard. He even had an Alice there to help him. Oh why, oh why, Alice? Why did you side with him?
The Mad Hatter had to look away. The screens in the security room of Arkham were showing that ruffian scour the asylum, ending his control over Arkham's staff. Bodies littered the floors like broken teacups. Soon, the entire facility would be under his control once more and out of the Hatter's.
Holding up a small device, the Mad Hatter scowled at it before he tossed it into a nearby waste bin. There was no need for it now. Soon, every staff member would be free of his control and it made his controlling device obsolete. The moment he had realized that man was here, he thought he had numbers on his side to overwhelm him. Alas, he had been wrong yet again when it came to this man. He needed to leave this place before his presence was discovered lest he be returned to his own cell once again.
The screams of the Queen wanting his head would return and he rather not hear those again.
"My, my, you've certainly kept yourself busy, Jervis."
The blond man jolted in his seat. Whipping his head around, he spotted the familiar sight of one Professor Hugo Strange. His former psychiatrist was looking bemused at him from the room's entrance.
"H-how did you find me?" he sputtered out, staring wide-eyed.
"It took some work, namely my own investigation into the Joker's escape from this place. Some things are making sense now. Would you be so kind as to tell me how you pulled off this feat? I'm certain he merely took advantage of your own escape attempt."
At the mention of the word Joker, Tetch couldn't help but shudder. That man was no man; a monster was a better description. The jabberwocky had nothing on him. "Now is perhaps not a good time," the Mad Hatter responded. "The Batman is taking down my stack of playing cards and he'll be through with them shortly."
"I imagine he will, but I am not worried. It will still take him some time to find this place; whether you and I are still here is up to you, Jervis."
What? But...did this man not loathe the Batman? They were the antagonists of each other's story, were they not? Why would he not flee in order to stave off capture?
"I can see that you're confused," Strange observed as he took a step into the room, and then another. "I can relieve you of those feelings in exchange for a small pittance; I wish to know how you came up with this idea to control Arkham. It is quite impressive."
Jervis glanced to one of the security feeds, feeling his nerves tremble as he realized the Batman was entering another wing, a closer wing to his location. He needed to leave and leave now. "You'll let me leave if I do, yes?" he questioned.
"We can even leave together if you wish. I have a car we can take that will safely take us away from this place."
"Then why don't we head to your car and I tell you everything? That feels a lot fairer to me."
Strange looked to the screens. "I have no fear of that man as you do, so I am quite comfortable with this location. If you wish to leave, it would be in your best interest to tell me what you know."
Jervis' eyes darted between the disgraced psychiatrist and the security feeds. "Oh, alright," he finally gave in. "The night you escaped, the Joker came to me. He knew you had conditioned the entire staff so that you could make your escape and he wanted me to override that programming with my own. I didn't want to, you see, but that man...is no man. He scares me."
"And your solution was to use your mind control technology and keep the staff in a simulated reality," Strange finished for him. "An impressive feat to accomplish in such a short amount of time."
The blond man ignored this. "He then let everyone out. Said it was no fun if there were only the two of us running around. Then he grabbed that girl of his and fled. That was the last I saw of him."
"So all of the maximum security inmates are loose?" Strange inquired.
"All of them. Every single one."
Strange appeared to consider this. "Tell me, Jervis. If I were to be able to rid ourselves of this cancerous man, would you be inclined to lend me your assistance?"
"Who? Batman?"
"Batman, certainly, but he is not the only one that poisons the well we find ourselves in. For too long the Joker has made the lives around him...difficult. He destroys everything he touches. Dr.. Quinn, as you've noted, is a victim to his thralls. I must admit, I do understand your fears when it comes to him, but allowing him to have power over you will not improve your situation."
"You want me to take on the Joker?!" Tetch exclaimed incredulously. Seriously, him? Against that madman? That was lunacy! Idiocy even!
"Not just you. You and I. You are a brilliant mind that should not be wasting away in such a decrepit place like this. The two men holding you here need to be dealt with and I am more than happy to assist you in this endeavor."
"If...If I refuse?"
"Then we go our separate ways, no worse for wear. Of course, you'll need to find your own way away from this place."
His own way? "And if I accept?" he pressed.
"Need I remind you of my car?"
Again he glanced to the security feeds. Batman was approaching uncomfortably fast. "I think I will accept your terms, Professor."
A grin not unlike a shark appeared on the man's face. "A wise decision, Jervis. A wise decision."
Dr. Bartholomew was one of the longest tenured psychiatrists at Arkham. He held himself with the poise of all the years of experience had granted him. Kindly, introverted, he was not the first person you would expect to be running a notorious mental hospital.
With Jeremiah Arkham unable to fulfill his duties as had been bequeathed to him by his family and Quincy Sharp being murdered in his office by the last remnants of the Court of Owls, Bartholomew had been tabbed to be the interim warden until someone else could be found. Expectedly, there were very few people interested in the position and Bartholomew ended up keeping the position.
Currently, the man was holding his head with a hand, the other one pressed down on his desk. Close by was a discarded 10/6 card, evidence that the warden had been under mind control only a short time ago. He was one of the few that were still conscious.
The rest were currently in various states of unconsciousness on the floor. Some were slumped against walls, others surrounded by overturned furniture, which had been turned when said orderlies had been thrown into them. Luckily, Black Canary's Canary Cry hadn't been used, so ruptured eardrums were not a listed injury.
"Dr. Bartholomew," Batman said softly, his voice rumbling.
"Just...a moment," the doctor asked, his hand hand covering his eyes. "I feel as if my head has been slammed into a wall."
Actually, it had been on his desk, but there was no reason to correct him. "Take your time," he told the older man reassuringly. He then looked over his shoulder and saw Black Canary posting up by the door. While he was certain they had taken down most, if not all of the Arkham staff, there still might be one or two left and they didn't need interruptions.
It took several moments before Dr. Bartholomew recovered him. Almost wearily, he inquired, "What can I help you with, Batman?"
There was some history here, though it laid dormant most of the time. There had been a fundraiser for Arkham some years ago, one attended by Bruce Wayne with a hefty check. He had found his way into Bartholomew's company at that time and he had wondered out loud if the Batman was suffering from some sort of mental delusion. That had been conversation with many doctors adding their own opinions, something Batman had found amusing until the joke wore old. Since then, whenever he had found himself in the doctor's company, he noticed the older man was constantly observing him, assessing him, but being too polite to ask him bluntly about his concerns. Batman didn't care, but it clearly affected the psychiatrist.
Perhaps it was something they needed to air out at some point. He had enough psychiatrists obsessing over him; he didn't need another one. Now just wasn't that time.
Batman placed a hand on the desk, taping his index finger on top of the 10/6 card. "Jervis Tetch managed to ensnare your entire staff with his mind control technology. I want to know if you know anything about it."
Dr. Bartholomew shook his head. "I don't. Clearly I fell victim as well, so I have no idea as to how he accomplished this feat."
"This may be a long shot, but would you mind if I took a look at your security footage? Perhaps they'll reveal something as to how he got out of his cell and got his hands on his technology."
"You may, only on the condition you view the footage of Tetch and Tetch alone."
Batman nodded. Considering the maximum security wing was empty, it would be incidental if he saw the other inmates escaping. He wasn't holding his breath though as at least one of the inmates would have gone right for the security office and gotten their hands on the footage. He had to be thorough, but he wasn't expecting much.
"Just so you know, it appears most, if not all of your staff was targeted," he told the psychiatrist. "I also checked the maximum security wing—all of the cells were empty."
Bartholomew's head jerked up, his mouth dropping open from shock. "A-all of them? Are you certain?"
Batman nodded. "I am."
"This isn't good. Those are people that truly need help," the warden said. "But...it seems strange. Jervis Tetch was a model resident. He wasn't displaying any inclinations for escape—not like some of the others. He appeared to want to be getting better."
The vigilante narrowed his eyes. Either Tetch was good at concealing his motives, or he just happened to be a pawn of someone else's escape plan. It wasn't unheard of that Tetch was used by others, Bane being a prime example. Who wasn't to say someone else hadn't?
"Was Tetch exhibiting any signs of stress, or were there any reports of odd behavior?" he questioned.
"Aside from his extreme fascination with Alice in Wonderland?" Bartholomew replied, "I am afraid not. Or at least no one reported such to me."
Seeing that security footage was a must now. If he was able to determine if Tetch was behind this latest escape, or just a pawn of a greater plan, seeing the man's behavior in the preceding days would confirm it.
"How about the other inmates?" Batman inquired. "Were any of them acting peculiar at any point? Whatever you can last remember."
Bartholomew at least gave his question some thought before shaking his head in the negative. "I honestly cannot recall, Batman. I fear my mind has been compromised, so I have no idea. You wouldn't happen to know how long I was under the mind control, would you? I fear any memory I've made since is a fabrication."
That was a good point. Considering everything that had happened tonight, with Strange and the Joker vying for his attention, and now with the Tetch-arranged breakout, he had plenty to consider.
Theory #1: Tetch had arranged for an escape, one that Strange and the Joker took advantage of, along with the rest of the max security inmates.
Theory #2: Someone used Tetch to stage a breakout that the rest of the inmates had taken advantage of.
Theory #3: They were all in on it.
There were too many variables to discount any of the theories, so all were valid in his opinion. It was now his job to get to the bottom of it, proving or disproving each theory. Now, taking into account the trap Strange had arranged, it was most likely a few weeks ago when the escape occurred. Seeing the security footage would give him a better idea.
So he told the warden this. "I'm not certain myself, but I had an encounter with Hugo Strange earlier this evening—which prompted my visit here. Taking into account the weapons he managed to obtain, I would say it has been a number of weeks."
There was a slight grimace at the mention of Hugo Strange on Bartholomew's face. That wasn't too surprising. Strange had effectively given psychiatrists a bad name in this city, making it quite difficult for various patients to trust the good ones. It was pretty similar to how Gotham nearly banished clowns following the Joker's emergence, or so he had learned following his return after three years abroad.
"That is one man I am certain we cannot cure," the warden said bluntly. "His narcissism prevents him from recognizing his obsessive compulsions. It certainly doesn't help that he is usually the smartest man in whatever room he is in."
A frank diagnosis of Strange, one that the vigilante was surprised to hear from a fellow psychiatrist regarding a patient, but perhaps Strange was a special case. Bartholomew was well known for not speaking of the Arkham inmates in any way, shape, or form. Even the Joker received his doctor-client confidentiality. In a way, Bartholomew was a good man and good psychiatrist, he was just living in a den with ravenous animals and he was handling it the best he could.
"I'll do my best to return the inmates as quickly as possible," he told the man.
"Please do—and if you can manage it, not in bandages and casts. It is difficult to work on a patient's problems when they're in pain," the warden chided him.
"I'll see what I can do."
It had been such a quiet day too. Then came the call from Arkham.
"I don't like this," Bullock grumbled as he slipped on a long, gray trench coat. "Nothing coming out of that place is good."
Sawyer heard this and while she said nothing about it, she privately agreed. Spend enough time in this city, deal with some of the craziness long enough, and the name Arkham brought on a feeling of dread.
What she did say was, "We got no choice. I don't like what I'm hearing so far." That prompted a quick check of her firearm and she may have taken a few seconds to examine the ammunition. It was just being professional, that's all.
As soon as that was done, she snagged a windbreaker and pulled it on even as she began marching her way out of the bullpen. This was part of the job, even if you didn't like it. There could be no hesitation,
A car ride that felt way longer than it should and the GCPD were arriving at the asylum in force. SWAT was charging out from multiple vans, automatic rifles at the ready; patrol officers were forming a perimeter; and anyone else was making their way to the front entrance. A short man with thinning brown hair and a pair of glasses was opening the large doors that led within the building itself.
It took a second, but Sawyer was able to call out, "Dr. Bartholomew! Are you hurt?"
"I don't think this is needed," the doctor began.
"We'll be the judge of that," Bullock cut in as he gestured wildly with one arm. SWAT surged into the building, no hesitation. Hopefully no one would be stupid enough to cause a commotion.
Bartholomew was protesting, and Sawyer took the opportunity to take him aside. "Doctor, I need you to answer some questions real quick. Give me a quick summary of everything that's happened."
"Do you really think this is all necessary?" Bartholomew protested, gesturing to the show of force. "This is a hospital! There are sick people here!"
Ignoring Bullock's, "No arguing here," the female lieutenant found herself interrupting, "It is a hospital and it happens to house some of the most dangerous criminals in the city. If what you've told us is true, those criminals could be anywhere right now, and that includes still inside the building. We're going to secure the premises, then secure the people inside of it, both innocents and those here in max lock up. If any escapees are still in there, we're going to find and secure them so they can't threaten anyone else, including the innocent sick people. Now I need you to be here with me and tell me everything that happened, in detail. This is a situation that can go wrong in a lot of bad ways."
The doctor and current head of the asylum looked helpless, looking to her then to the building itself then back to her. No words were coming out and that was frustrating.
"Dr. Bartholomew," she urged him, "so that we can protect the people here that need to be protected, I need you to calm down and talk with me." Sawyer spoke slowly, comfortingly even; whatever it took to get the doctor to talk to her. "We're not just here because a host of violent criminals are kept here, there are also innocent people who need medical help here and instead of trying to hold the city hostage, choose to get help. Help us help them. Talk to me and give me the current situation."
Because that was what Arkham was supposed to be. Not what it currently was, which was a renovated prison with more psychiatrists than a normal prison.
"We think the actual break out happened days ago. We've been under the control of Jervis Tetch during that time." Finally, an answer and not a good one. She had done her homework on all the actual inmates held in here, and Tetch was a man who knew how to create technology capable of mind control. "Our preliminary headcount has a number missing, including the Joker—"
"Didn't we just send him back here?" Bullock complained, giving Sawyer an incredulous and exasperated look. "What is the deal with this place if you can't hold that madman?"
"We don't know how he escaped, only an approximate time of when he did," Bartholomew countered, his voice strengthening. "We've made improvements to our security since, but that was more for outside forces breaking in. There are other...dangerous elements within. Hugo Strange also escaped and all he needs is words."
"Then gag the bastard already," Bullock grumbled.
"And get his lawyers happy for a civil suit?" Sawyer retorted. "It seems like Tetch was the guy to make this happen. I want to know how he did it, and yes, I am aware he's been restricted from anything more complicated than a TV remote. I want to know if he got his hands on more, and if so, what. In the meantime, we're going to wait for SWAT to give us the all clear and then we'll take our own headcount."
For some reason, she had a feeling there were going to be a lot more headcounts to come. Some of those heads wouldn't have bodies attached.
